Turn Me On
by dishcalledhaggis
Summary: Mission: Mutant child gone missing. Location: Ireland. Jean and Logan alone...
1. Chapter 1

Most of the team had long gone to bed, only those true night owls chose to stay up late, feed the firepit, and enjoy another drink. There weren't many nights where they could just relax and be certain they wouldn't be called upon for help, so this evening was far past due. Jean was lounging on the outdoor couch, a light blanket covering her feet.

"So, there's always been something with you and him, right?" Bobby spoke in a hushed tone as he filled Jean's wine glass.

She looked over at Logan, lounging in a chair mere feet away. Hank and Logan were talking about beer, or something else that the Canadian berserker and the blue doctor had become friends over. One brains, one brawn...all oddest of pairings as friends go.

"It's not really a secret, Bobby."

"Why did nothing ever come of it," Bobby pressed.

"I dont know, timing?"

"Well, you've both been single for awhile...so what's stopping you?"

Good question, Jean thought as she sipped from the large (and very full glass).

"I don't know," she shook her head.

"Talkin' about The Notebook, girls," Logan smirked.

"Talkin' about you," Bobby snorted.

"Oh yeah? Jealous you still can't grow hair on your chest?"

"Bobby..." Jean warned, he had had just as much wine as her, and he was a known lightweight.

"Talkin' about why you and Jean aren't hooking up."

"There's the cue Robert has had enough for tonight," Hank chuckled, prodding Bobby to head for his room. "Don't you rememeber what happened last time you joked around with Logan...you were bald the next morning!"

Jean watched Hank escort the wobbly prankster to his room, laughing to try and divert Bobby's choice of subject. Logan sat down at her feet, reaching under the blanket.

"Your feet are freezing, woman!"

"I can't help it," she kicked him playfully.

Jean felt her whole body go warm, more than just from his hand lingering on her foot. They hadn't been alone in a long while, and now...they were alone, in the dark, with a fire still crackling in the pit, and bellies full of alcohol.

"So..."

"It's quiet."

"Means Bobby finally passed out," he chuckled.

Jean took a drink of wine, trying not to laugh as his thumb ran along the sensitive arch of her foot.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Ticklish?"

"No, I am not."

Logan reached under the blanket, Jean began to scoot back on the couch to get away, but with his reflexes and strength she found herself pulled half on top of his lap.

"So, why haven't we hooked up?"

"We aren't teenagers, Logan."

"I'm just using Bobby's words."

"Well, I could ask you the same thing. Why haven't we?"

"Don't know," Logan shrugged, his hand skimming over her thigh.

"I don't know either."

"Not attracted anymore?"

"No, that's not it."

"Why are you so rigid," he asked, stroking his hand down her spine.

"I'm uncomfortable..." she tried to supress a shudder.

"I'm not gonna bite...at least not enough to draw blood," he grinned.

Jean rolled her eyes, such a typical Logan response. "It's the way I'm sitting, Logan."

He grunted, and positioned himself so he was turned more towards her, her legs now draped over his thighs.

"Well, what should we do about it?"

"I think...we should..." Jean inched her face closer to Logan's,

"There you two are, I-wow, what did I miss," Storm halted at the patio door upon discovering Jean and Logan looking very cozy.

Jean slipped out of Logan's arms, hearing a growl of displeasure from Logan.

"Mutant kid disappeared in Ireland, and Siryn requested you two personally. Leave in in fifteen minutes."


	2. Chapter 2

If she was lucky, she could get a couple hours of sleep while Storm flew them to Ireland, and avoid the worst of a hangover. She had to admit, she was quite content to see the Emerald Isle, as most of their missions were stateside. There was a good chance she wouldn't see much more than the inside of the Dublin base, but perhaps she could entice Siryn to show her at least one night out at a real Irish pub. After changing into comfortable yoga pants, long tunic shirt, and a hoodie, she packed her bag for at least two weeks' stay. Jean boarded the Blackbird, her head swimming with wine. Popping a couple Advil followed by plenty of water, Jean stored her duffle bag away and grabbed a pillow and blanket from the gear closets to make her seat into a bed.

She had just taken a deep breath and closed her eyes; glad Xavier had sprung for the leather seats last year, when she felt the blanket cover her shoulder. Looking over her shoulder, Logan stood next to her seat, hoodie zipped halfway up his chest.

"How did you manage to get a shower and pack in fifteen minutes?"

"I can show you later," he smirked.

Jean felt her cheeks grow warm, and fussed with her blanket.

"Get some sleep."

"I was trying to," she smiled wryly.

Logan tossed his duffle bag in Bobby's seat, and kicked back in his own. Jean tucked the pillow under her neck and tried to relax into the chair, despite hearing the engines whirring to life.

"Wake me a couple minutes before Storm makes the landing, would you?"

"Why?"

"I need to change before we meet Siryn and her team," Jean explained. She reasoned it was only proper to look her best as a representative of Xavier's to show up looking like she had just gotten beat up by Kitty in a badly lost pillow fight, when really it made her feel a little more in control of being out of her comfort zone.

"I don't think they'll care what you look like, it will be sun up when we get there," Logan put both hands behind his head with a smirk.

"Says you," Jean smiled as she rolled her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Jean came awake with a start. Logan was up, helping Storm with flight checks.

"You were supposed to wake me _before_ landing, Logan!"

He smirked as she flung herself out of the chair and stubbed her toes on another seat on her way back to her bag.

"I tried, you swatted me away."

"I did not!"

"Actually, you did," the ends of Storm's lips curled up.

Jean huffed and shut the door, trying to change in the bathroom.

"Why would Xavier design this thing like a commercial airline bathroom, he's freakin' Daddy Warbucks on wheels," Jean muttered to herself as she struggled to change clothes.

"I'm tellin' him you said that," Logan's amused voice sounded from the other side of the door.

"You wouldn't dare," Jean opened the door and poked his broad chest with a finger.

"Watch me."

"Name your price," she sighed, stepping into a pair of ridiculously high heels.

"Oh, I'm gonna save that bargain for later, Red," he swiped the bag from her hand and walked down the stairs of the jet.

"Ro, if we could just…" Jean turned to Storm.

"Jean Grey, turn away a missing Mutant just because she's alone with Logan?"

"Should have ordered Bobby to come, I outrank him," Jean muttered.

"Off with you," Storm shooed her away.

"See you soon," Jean smiled.

Jean stepped onto the tarmac, and ducked under a waiting umbrella.

"Thank you."

"Anytime, Jean."

Jean looked over and smiled slightly. "Wade, I didn't know you were here."

"Theresa needed a friend," he replied.

"It's good you could be here, then."

He grunted a reply, opening the door for her with a touch of his fingers to a keypad. Jean stepped inside, recognizing some faces that looked back at her. Siryn left her post, approaching Jean with a mischievous smile.

"Well, aren't you a grand sight?"

"Theresa," Jean smiled, accepting the smaller redhead's embrace gladly.

"Your fella is already gettin' to work. He told me you were knackered and needed a bit more of a lie down in your room."

"Did he now?"

"Aye, he did."

"No need. I slept on the jet."

"Shall we do some field work, then?"

"Will I need more sensible shoes?"

Theresa whistled appreciatively at the spike heels. "How do you teeter on them things?"

"Very carefully," Jean chuckled.

"You may want to change, cold day."

"Lead the way to my room then," Jean glanced at Logan, who no doubt overheard their whole conversation.

Jean slipped out of her pencil skirt and traded it for a pair of heavy jeans and boots, slipping her pea coat on.

"Is that the only way in and out," Jean asked.

"Do we look daft? I'll take you out a way your fella won't be able to figger out."

"Not my fella," Jean looked over her shoulder, turning up her collar as they reached a door Theresa held open for her.

"Still nothing goin' on? Not even a bit of an accidental snog?"

"How does one accidentally make out," Jean laughed, hoping her cheeks didn't get too pink.

"Just sittin' around, having a pint, few laughs…" Theresa smirked.

"A couple of us were havin' a night in," Jean admitted, busy buttoning her coat against the biting cold.

"Ah, so there was a bit of hank panky, as you Americans call it," Theresa nudged Jean.

"I'm afraid only Hank uses that phrase anymore," Jean laughed, getting into the car Theresa chose.

"Let's leg it outta here before your-Logan, tries to drag you back by the hair."

"I'm afraid I can picture him doing just that," Jean chuckled.


	4. Chapter 4

Jean tried her best to read the file in front of her, but with Dublin City rolling past her, she found her nose nearly pressed to the passenger window like a kid at Disneyland. Cobbled streets, men in tweed jackets standing outside pubs that looked warm and inviting. There would be plenty of pints and stories to be told, of Fey people and lost loves, all of those possibilities creating a warm spot of yearning in her belly.

"Lovely, isn't it?"

"Very," Jean smiled.

"I know that Logan is all business, but I could try to persuade him to let you out-"

"He is not my keeper, I will go anytime I like," Jean sat back in her seat, giving Theresa a teasing grin that belied her stuffy tone.

"Yes ma'am. Here we are," Theresa pulled into a parking spot.

Jean's happy warmth fled as she stepped into the chill air, blinking as she had just splashed her face with cold water. Slipping on gloves, she followed Theresa into the alleyway where Hunter, the teenaged Mutant, was last seen. He seemed like a good kid according to the file, dark blonde hair and mischievous hazel eyes that matched his charming grin. She hoped she'd get to see that youthful face safe and unharmed before too long.

"We got all we could before the Garda moved in. I figure you can take a look, see if there's anything we could have missed."

"Why didn't you call Emma into this?"

"Other than she didn't want to muss her brazilian blowout? She had another mission where she was needed," Theresa smirked.

"Next best thing is a telekinetic psychic and a mutant whose regenerating powers are second only to his bad moods," Jean said almost to herself. Logan definitely would have been better in this regard with his senses, he could smell Hunter's cologne, if they had drugged him, what deodorant the kidnappers wore. She was more like a detective with blinders on, but she had been down for the count before, she'd find a way to make this work for her.

"Give me a minute."

Jean released the tension in her shoulders, taking a deep breath. The smell of damp air, heavy with soil soothed her tired mind. Logan would have a smug smirk on his mouth to know he was right about her jetlag, which was drawing closer to her waking senses. If Hunter were thinking about being taken from this spot, there was a small possibility she could make contact from afar, barring any psychic blocks they may have on hand to prevent Mutants such as herself from locating him. She had been hard at work with Cerebro the last few weeks, and found her skills somewhat like having weakness after a harsh illness. A sudden leap in her stomach made her gasp.

"Jean?"

"I think I have him," she muttered, taking a deep breath.

_His head hurt, he was cold. No one would know he was here, he hadn't told anyone where he was going..._

He felt her intrusion on his consciousness, and panicked. Jean had to get away, he was dragging her down, demanding to know who she was.

"Oh," she groaned, surprised that despite Theresa's small stature she stopped Jean from falling to her knees.

"Fancy a coffee?"

"Yes, that would be great," Jean managed a smile.

"Decaf."

Jean chuckled, even a shot in the dark wouldn't be able to keep her from her bed.


	5. Chapter 5

Theresa smirked as she pulled into the garage; Logan's impressive frame leaned up against the door frame with a lit cigar clenched between his teeth awaiting their return. Jean was asleep on the passenger side, empty coffee cup still in her hand.

Knowing Logan would be in a foul mood for both redheads disobeying his orders, Theresa hoped to get his attentions on Jean as soon as possible so she could sneak away unscathed. He pushed off the door frame and opened his mouth-

"Before you say anything, Jean is asleep in the passenger seat and could use a big strong lad like you to help her to bed."

"Should leave her there," he grunted.

"You wouldn' do such a thing to your woman, now would ya?"

"Save your brogue and blarney for your own fella, Terry," Logan ground out his cigar under his boot, already moving toward the car.

"I'll see you in the War Room," Theresa grinned and slipped through the door.

Logan opened the door, reaching in to unbuckle her seatbelt. Jean stirred and turned so that they were nose to nose, and smiled.

"Hi."

"You didn't listen to me," he growled.

Jean sighed, and put her hand to his chest to push him back. She stood up and stretched leisurely, knowing Logan was glaring at her.

"I wasn't tired," she yawned, covering her mouth.

"C'mon," Logan walked away from her, eliciting an eye roll from Jean.

"I was able to make contact with Hunter," she followed Logan the best she could.

"So he's alive," Logan seemed heartened by the news.

"Still very strong, mentally. He was able to drain me…" Jean paused for a moment, feeling the hallway spin around her.

"Jean?"

She tried to open her mouth to say she was fine, but she felt his thick arms go around her and pick her up before she hit the floor. Resting her head on his shoulder, she could smell cigar, soap, motor oil, all the scents of 'Logan' that made her burn up inside while his body warmed her without.

"Always push yourself too hard," he muttered, his mouth near her forehead.

"Says the…says you," Jean muttered, unable to bite back a disappointed sigh as Logan lay her down on the bed.

"You okay, Red?"

"I'm fine," she lied, sitting up in the dark room to take off her jacket. Logan took off her boots as she lay back, watching him by what little light crept around the curtains. His forehead creased, working the laces on the boots, holding her calf in his large hand as he pried each boot off. She could say she didn't want to be alone, she could say she wanted him right now…but there was a mission. Always a mission, some conflict, some misunderstanding that made them both take steps backward.

Jean sighed again. What was with the Irish and their sighing, and why did it trigger her own ancestral Irish sighing at all the sad, sorry things?

"I have to brush my teeth." Jean, irritated and exhausted and wanted to kiss Logan, and that just made everything worse.

"I think it can wait one night," Logan replied.

"It is daylight," Jean reasoned, stepping into the bathroom. The mint toothpaste revived her a moment, she stuck her head around the corner to see Logan sitting on the bed.

Walking back to the bed, Logan held up a bottle of water to her as she passed. She grabbed it, felt her fingers brush his, and just didn't care about the reasons why she should not try being with Logan. She set the bottle down on the nightstand, and was glad of having worn nice underwear as she kicked her jeans off. Logan's hand reached up the bed, pulling down the blankets, Jean felt her limbs growing heavier as she lay her head down. Logan pulled the blankets up to her shoulder, and Jean grabbed his hand before her eyes couldn't stay open any longer.

"I'll be in the War Room," Logan's warm rumble in her ear sent a thrill over her skin, turning to goose-flesh as his scruffy facial hair tickled her when kissed her cheek. She turned her head, grabbing the back of his neck as she placed a quick kiss to his mouth.

"Don't let me sleep too long," Jean murmured, eyes too heavy to resist sleep.


End file.
